Lucien felt like a mouse stuck in a trap. He heard chatter coming from the crowd, each telling a different story, yet carrying the same theme. Lucien and Ronan were going to be fingered as murderers.
How the hell was he supposed to explain this to the police? And where was Evee? She’d specifically said to whistle for her and she’d come. Pierre had shown up instead. And although Lucien was grateful that he’d arrived in time to save them from the Nosferatu, it infuriated him that they’d been left alone to face the consequences of something and the someones they’d been sent here to protect.
After showering, Evee threw on a pair of jeans, a maroon scoop-neck sweater and work boots. The entire time she’d stood under the water, Lucien had been on her mind. Although she really didn’t want him to leave when he did, Lucien had been strong enough to stop things before they’d gotten out of hand. He would probably have blamed himself for taking advantage of her under duress—and he wouldn’t have been that far off the mark. She’d been so petrified, had felt so vulnerable that more than anything she’d needed to feel strength and a sense of someone being in control. Lucien provided both in spades.
Knowing that didn’t keep Evee’s body from shivering as she went to her closet for a light jacket. The cold didn’t cause her shivering. The need for Lucien did.
A short, loud screech had Evee spinning about on the balls of her feet and her heart racing up to her throat.
It was Hoot, her familiar, who stood perched at the foot of her bed frame.
Evee slapped a hand to her chest. “Don’t do that!” she said. “You scared the hell out of me.”
The horned owl’s large eyes blinked slowly. “Good,” he said.
Evee scowled at him. “What do you mean good?”
“At least I have your attention now.”
“What the hell is your problem?” Evee asked, slipping on her jacket.
“Problem? I’m not the one with the problem, Evette François. You are.” He blinked, turned his head around at a ninety-degree angle, then whipped it back in her direction.
“I’m fine,” Evee said. “So how about you mind your own business for once?”
“That’s not my job, and you know it.”
Evee sighed and glared at Hoot. “Then spit it out. I’ve got things to tend to.”
“Spit it out? Have you no brains left in your head?” Hoot asked. “You damn near get killed by one of those hideous monster things, jump into the river when you can’t swim for shit, then not only lead but encourage that Bender guy to put his hands on your privates.”
“I don’t need you riding my ass about any of it right now.” The last thing Evee wanted or needed was Hoot giving her some type of moral-code lesson when all she wanted to think about was Lucien. The musky, wet smell of him. How his hands had felt on her body. How even through her wet clothes she’d felt their heat burst into a furnace so hot it would have melted an eighteen-wheeler loaded with rebar.
“As your familiar, I’m allowed to ride whatever the hell I want to protect you,” Hoot declared. “You had no business being with him in that intimate way.”
“How do you know there was any intimate anything?” Evee asked. “You disappeared. If you were so against me being with him, why didn’t you do what you always do—stick your beak in where it doesn’t belong?”
The owl let out a short, angry screech. “Unlike you, I’ve been out searching for the Nosferatu.”
Evee put a hand on her hip. “And what do you think I’ve been doing? Playing solitaire all this time? I’ve been looking for them, too.”
“You weren’t while you were playing touchy, feely with that Bender.”
“How can you make that claim when you weren’t even here?” Evee asked.
“Oh, I was here,” Hoot said, whipping his head about as if checking for intruders behind him.
He turned back to her. “Here just in time to see the games you two were playing.”
“Oh, shut up,” Evee said. “Nothing happened.”
“From the groaning and moaning you were doing, that sure was some kind of nothing.” Hoot chirped.
“Enough,” Evee warned.
“What’re you going to do, tape my beak shut?” Hoot asked. “Look here, missy. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now. You may be paired with him, which is a ridiculous idea in my opinion, but that doesn’t give you the right to act like a harlot.”
“Stop,” Evee warned again. “Or I’ll not only tape your beak but clip your wings.”
Hoot squawked. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“What good are you as a familiar if all you’re going to do is chew me out for every little thing I do?” Evee said.
“My job is to help you see straight in case you go crosswise, and you, Ms. François, have gone crosswise big time.”
“What part of ‘enough’ don’t you understand?” Evee said, heading for the foyer.
“The part where I tell you humans are dying,” Hoot said, and blinked twice. “And one of your Nosferatu.”
Evee froze in place, and her body temperature suddenly felt like it had dropped twenty degrees. She turned slowly to face Hoot, who was now roosting on the stairs’ newel post.
“What humans? Where? Which Nosferatu?” Evee asked, her questions coming out rapid-fire.
Hoot fluttered his wings as if ready to take flight, then settled back into place. “Two humans in Chalmette. One in the Quarter.”
Evee felt her mouth drop open. She snapped it shut and swiped a hand over her face. “Chalmette? You mean the Nosferatu have gone beyond the city proper?” She leaned against the front door for support.
The bird gave her an affirmative squawk. “Not only that, it seems like some of the missing Loups, Nosferatu and Chenilles are attempting to form their own feeding pattern.”
Evee held her breath as he continued.
“Some of the Nosferatu, in human form, of course, lured a couple out to one of the abandoned areas in the ninth ward. Sucked them dry, then left. The Loup must have been hiding in wait. As soon as the Nosferatu left, two Loups ran in and devoured the corpses, leaving nothing but bone, which, of course, the Chenille finished off. Every drop of marrow.”
“You’re sure about this?” Evee asked.
Hoot blinked twice. “Witnessed it myself.”
“Any other witnesses?”
“For the woman in the Quarter, yes. Chalmette, no. Sooner or later somebody is going to find those bodies back there, though. Police are going to get involved. There won’t be much of the bodies left to identify, but still...”
Evee felt tears suddenly burn against her eyelids. The Triad’s problems had just multiplied a hundredfold. If the Originals had trekked all the way to Chalmette, they could, for all intents and purposes, travel into another state. That wasn’t something she and her sisters had considered. The Originals had been cared for and fed for years in the same way, the same place. Dealing with that, the Triad used logic and assumed they’d remain close.
So much for logic.
“What